Premature, they died at birth. Twin brothers and I too am their brother.
They were born 5 years before me. Jared Scott and Trevor Alexander. I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped around my neck, and they were so small they could fit in the palm of your hand.
They were kept in glass boxes: incubators humanizing glass bodies shattering aliens in fabricated wombs. Clear tubes ran from each nostril to machines with numerical equations that simulate abnormal infant’s breathing pattern. Their hearts were UFO’s, unidentifiable, black hole brain matter with lungs like space vacuums.
“They came too soon.” I was told
Possibly cremated, I can’t remember what my parents said.
When I was younger, I thought babies couldn’t die.
*****
Upon my birth, my parents gave me the twin’s middle names: as if some fusion of sunlight and stardust could manifest into a third being, still stuck on earth with the cord around his neck.
Cortex in cortex. Conjoined astronauts sharing intersections of skin, fluids, and bone. We are of flesh and blood, yet I did not know them. They are more than childern, but intersteller beings, cellestials and heavenly bodies.
Twin constellations, Gemini, comparable to Castor and Pollux themselves. Their fates were left up to the stars, but they were not spaceships, they were meteorites burning out in unearthly fires. Without a fighting chance, their flames were stifled.
“Mayday.mayday……….. Mothership.is………………………crashing…..… ……………Mother……board.short-circuiting……………..……… Firing 3rd……….. ……thruster…… Firing………….. 5th.thruster……… 10 minutes ..till…...…….…... ………………………………………..impact……………………………………….……
recharging ……….......flux.capacitors……………………..Oxygen..Nitrogen…..…..
……………..Burning……………..… up in atmosphere……………..….5.mintues.till ..impact…………………Suffocation…........Fuel.exhaustion…………1 minute…….
………….45…...seconds………….Depletion..............30.seconds………….............................................................................................................................................
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………… Planetary. Collision……… ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………15.seconds…………………………………………………………... ………………………… Planetary. Collision……………………………………………
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….………………...………The sun is so bright …………….…………………………………………………………..…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………”
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
Baby you don’t have to cook or clean
just sing for me
and I will love you
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 9:52 PM UTC
I finished on my stomach
And am ready for bed
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
At the corner of 12th & Main
I am reminded of
the night you couldn’t
stand like a newborn
deer with pelvis
resting on broken glass
bottles tightly curled
around your lips
resembling
a girl
in a cocktail dress
the one whose
neck you kissed your mouth
a slot machine
BAR BAR BAR
hacking up
cigarette butts and what’s left
of your dignity
At the corner of 12th & Main
there is the scent
of liquor stained
into the pavement
your skin cells made
impressions
on the pavement
body rag dolled up
like a cadaver
on parade
and I your Grand Marshall…
I’m sorry
for scuffing your boots
At the corner of 12th & Main
your psyche collided
with concrete
sunken
inward to slish and
slosh on a whiskey
tango tidal wave or
was it tequila foxtrot
see now I’m
drunk too
On the corner of 12th & Main
An attempt is made
to fashion
a gurney
out of what’s left of
wasted anatomy
two
fractured carcasses I am
one of them your brother
holding your feet
marching
like funk tossed in a
blender, frapped
Emily is there
She offers you
her couch and me
a bottle of *****
and ***********
In Emily’s apartment
I took you
to the bathroom
your fragile
husk
shivering on the
chipped linoleum
dehydration
and a smaller frame
will do that to you
promptly I got you
some water and a blanket
to no avail
so I held you
in my awkward
limbs
till your bones
were silent
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
A thousand paper sailboats
I made for you
Are floating in an ocean
Dispatched from my chest
Fragile and frivolous
They want to see the world
From Boston to Hong Kong
Circumnavigation
And other earthly splendors
For when they find their purpose
Each will sail home
To share the world with you
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
While in the shower
I watched the water bead on my skin,
forming puddles in the creases of my
hands and I think about existence
and what it means to be human
To express how drifting into
the ocean feels like a kaleidoscope and
day and night don’t mean anything
Why we don’t kiss
strangers more often, the kind where their tongues
slip past our lips and heads and hearts burst with
feelings of real love, genuine and true
There are times when I wish the world would end
and during our last seconds, everyone would become
transparent and sincere, the firing of a single neuron
would stretch a mile till the tension
snaps, traversing synapses,
neurotransmitters, endorphins, and
loving thy neighbor
While in the shower
I see tangents in liquid universes
that form tidal waves in the canyons
of my brain and I think about you
To express how falling in
love with you feels like a bomb cloud
and you and I are one in the same
Why we kiss
each other so often, the kind where my heart
slips past your ribcage and fear and anger collapse
under our love, fruitful and wild
There are times when I wish the world would never end
and during our lifetime, we would be
euphoric and free, the corner of your eye
could tell a thousand stories of
our first kiss, jubilance,
and loving you
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
I never cared much for
politics or
the jam between my toes
but I guess it keeps me
company
when winter loves
December and
my feet sweat pushpins
I’ll sometimes catch
snowflakes on
my tongue but who really cares
I’ve always suffered from
seasonal depression
but I think it’s just an
excuse
to tell people I hate them
or to count
fingernail clippings in the sink
Maybe I have a snow globe
for a skull
thawed out and marinating
in a pool of
whiskey hung over
a bucket to conjure
Flies
or was it Spiders harvesting
my insides
I pray they lay eggs in my
lungs
so when I speak, someone will listen
Spiders to keep me company at night
when the lights turn off
to eat the toe jam I’ve collected in
mason jars
but the sound of a match striking
always scares them off
so I light a cigarette to
summon my Demons
Because maybe they will be my friends
But I plan on dying alone
with my whiskey and Flies.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
Drunk,
With logical operators out of sync
He marches
Temptation fixed in his mouth
Pockets erupting fear
And misinterpreted erections
His mother sits in the corner of his eye
As another shot of Jamison enters his body
She’s worried about his faith in God
While he just wants to **** something tonight
“He’s a teenager.” Daddy says
But Daddy smokes a lot of ***
And his boy has sin in his heart
Spin, Daddy, Spin
You’re head is on backwards now
Gaze placed on another dime bag
Now your son is in the bathroom
With a girl pinned against the door
He's sliding his hand up her skirt
As tears trickled down her porcelain skin
She was 16 and a ******
As he pulls his pants on, he smirks and says to her
“You lost your sheen pretty lady.”
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
I love to get drunk.
I love to get wasted, hammered,
plastered, intoxicated,
white girl, ********* drunk.
I have many stories about getting drunk,
from racing up the street and back naked because I lost another bet
being stripped down and thrown into a
shower after vomiting on myself,
or having *** with a girl on my friend’s couch
(I call it my *** couch now).
Okay so most of them I end up naked
But that’s the glory of ***** my friends!
Enough can make you feel like you have clothes on
when in fact you clearly do not have clothes on,
(We know, it’s cold, no one is looking at you’re **** anyways),
It can make you think you’re dance moves are on point,
Give you strength to punch a dent in a fridge because you thought someone was talking **** about you’re friend when really they were just talking about skateboarding,
It can even give you the courage to walk over to that really really
cute girl and tell her how much you want to put it in her ****
The point of me telling you all of this is that some people have given alcohol a bad rep.
Obviously all the people who drunk drive and get into accidents.
But no, I’m talking about people like… the douchy frat boy who gets obnoxiously drunk, calls everyone a *** even though he’s probably a closet homosexual, who borderline tries to **** girls with his big muscles and amazing ability to care so much about football. By the way, I’m not you’re ******* bro.
Or the dumb girl who thinks she can drink a million shots and be okay, the one girl that pop punk bands always sing about, who end up puking everywhere, or sleeping with the douchy frat boys while all their friends call her a **** and then she’ll make a post on facebook about how all guys are douchbags, among the other dumb **** she posts on facebook like stupid life quotes such as #YOLO
Or even the hipster who has ruined drinking PBR in public forever.
(No, I’m not a hipster, I just go to art school and PBR is cheap, you *******
And to those stuck up individuals who tell me that drinking is bad and I should feel bad: **** you and the high horse you rode in on. Saying I’m an alcoholic is saying that I have more fun then you. I have never met an interesting person who doesn’t drink. If you don’t drink, you’re a boring **** and all you’re stories **** They all end with, “And then I got home.”
Alcohol was God’s way of telling us the world’s a ****** place, so he took a little bit of heaven and bottled it up for us, and if you believe any of this you’re probably drunk; Not the part about bottling up heaven, the part about God existing. But if I was you’re god, I would sprinkle wine out into the night so when you looked up at it to wither time away with questions to me you’d be so drunk with the moment and forget about being saved. Because life isn’t about heaven and hell, it’s about living and being alive and being drunk with the people you love.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC